


Christmas Eve

by WhumpTown



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Brightwell, Emotional Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 11:14:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21968410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhumpTown/pseuds/WhumpTown
Relationships: Malcolm Bright/Dani Powell
Comments: 4
Kudos: 76





	Christmas Eve

She is everything that’s right, all the things worth living for. Her muffled laughter as she bites the inside of his thigh, taunting. Cold hands on his back, in his hair, ghosting up his sides, brushing against his as they pass one another. His boxers on her hips and her easy smile when he gets the tips of his fingers caught in her hair.

She’s painful inhales and broken sobs. Her body rocking them in unison, always meaning her half of the vows ‘in sickness and in health’ more than she should ever have to. Her side of the bed always empty because she’s a bed hog and the big spoon. 

He smiles, thin and shakily. Forcing his aching, tired body into motion. Already, he’s practicing the smile he’ll force out when Dani gets out of bed. The right amount of teeth and sincerity in his voice are hard to sell. He tries to roll the tension out of his shoulders as he sets to making some breakfast.

“Good morning, handsome.” Dani kisses him and he can taste the coffee she’s already had. She’s startling, her hair a mess and wearing one of his shirts. She’s got an old pair of shorts on, they curve with the crest of her ass so fantastically. He tries to force his stupid brain to bask in his luck but it just reminds him of how much better she could do.

Dani notices his attention and smiles. She leans in for another kiss, this time leaning in with her hand on his chest. It’s hotter than the last one. She’s teasing as she bites his lip,” you do know that I can tell when you stare at my ass right?”

He struggles to smile for her. Fighting even harder when he sees her brain taking in his struggle. She kisses the edge of his mouth and puts a hand on his cheek, snaking it through his hair until she can rub the back of his neck. 

“Oh, Malcolm.”

His mind is a swirling cloud of smoke. Constant reminders of all the things he’s fucked up. It’s his fault they don’t have any kids yet. His fertility low because of the years he’s spent on rare antipsychotics and antidepressants. Dani wants a beautiful oak bed but they can’t have it because where would they put the restraints that Malcolm still needs most nights. 

It’s Christmas Eve of all days, too.

“I hate it when you feel bad.” He laughs at her. Because that’s such a simple way of putting it. ‘Feeling bad’ like his head hurts or he’s sick to his stomach. His head won’t turn off. He keeps thinking. He can feel Paul watching him. Hear his voice sharp and clear with anger as he grows more frustrated. The pain in his side and pulse of the wound on his head. 

_“You’re such a fuck up,” Paul smacks his cheek with the flat of the knife. “You cried the entire time, do you remember that?” Paul keeps circling Malcolm, just out of reach. “Such a fucking coward, always were.”_

_The taunt is followed by a knowing laugh. Paul kicks out at Malcolm, sending him into a coughing fit as his boot knocks the air out of Malcolm. “Your stupid daddy thought he could teach you to be like us,” Paul steps on Malcolm’s chest, overtop the ribs Paul knows are broken. “You stopped crying after that first stab.” Paul towers over Malcolm, smiling at the crimson painting Malcolm’s teeth. “You may be a coward but you’re one sadistic fuck.”_

He blinks and they’re on the floor. Her urgent words are lost on his ears. He can’t think past the cold hands on his ears, her hands are always so cold. They’re grounding. The panic seeping out of his chest as those cold hands press closer. He bought her gloves for Christmas, they’re sitting under the tree. It’s just another thing he lov-

“Dani?” He’s suddenly sober, the panic and voices gone. He’s just sitting on the cold kitchen floor in his underwear while his spectacularly attractive wife talks him down from yet another ledge. He clears his throat,” I-I think I… I love you.”

Dani giggles, her cold hands moving to his cheeks. She smiles at him, shaking her head,” I would hope so!” She kisses him, smiling and making their noses mush against each other. She’s the one to pull away and press their foreheads together. “Typically, most people do marry for love.”

 _“You’re so lucky!”_ He’s always the lucky one. They both know what they mean. That Malcolm’s lucky that someone without mental disorders loves someone who does. As if it could ever possibly be that simple. (At least, most people have the decency not to bring their races into it.)

No one sees their arguments about using the restraints. Dani thinks it’s animalistic and he hasn’t had physically violent dreams in a year; he doesn’t need them. Malcolm would rather strap himself down than face hurting her. They don’t hear Malcolm’s voice break when tells her, tears swelling and pouring down his face, that if he hurt her, if he killed her in his sleep he would kill himself. 

It’s not about Malcolm having mental disorders out the ass. 

It’s Dani respecting Malcolm has a routine and that he has to stick to it. It’s the late nights she spends researching to understand his manic episodes and googling his medicines. Relationships are give and take. While the world seems to look at their relationship as purely her giving and him taking, she knows better.

She loves him. 

The curve of his ass in a Tom Ford suit or just his bare ass; she’s not picky. Grilled cheese sandwiches when she’s sick and a seemingly endless supply of tea. He’s the solid weight in her lap on the couch when he wants her to play with his hair. The hand that gets tangled in her curls and the shrill scream in the shower when a stray spider makes it’s home near his shampoo. 

He’s fruity soap and soft blushes. Shakey hands reaching out finding her in the night. The night light she thought she outgrew at nine. _“It’s a solar system though.”_ Malcolm standing on their bed, knees bent and just waiting for her to tell him no so he can start jumping like a mad man.

He’s also hard kisses and deep laughter. Fingers that bring her to the edge and lips that too good for their own good. He’s burning flesh and scars. Blunt nails and cold feet. 

“Dani?”

She hums in response. She’s pulled from the depths of his eyes. With her own closed, she could draw his face from memory. The way his cheekbones come up so perfectly. The bags under his eyes. The spots of age and sun on his cheeks and forehead. The crinkle of skin above his nose. The depth of his eyes like he’s looking right through you. Reading your mind. 

There’s that blush she loves so much, it eats up the side of his cheeks. He grins,” wanna open our presents today?”

In their vows, they promised to always get Christmas presents. It used to be Dani’s favorite holiday and Malcolm’s too. So they decided people like their father’s and Paul wouldn’t ruin that anymore for them. 

Dani smiles and kisses him,” this is why I love you.” She stands and offers him a hand up. They stand beside each other. He’s less clean-shaven than he used to be, closer to 40 than 30 now. Grey hairs are starting to sprout out at his temples and he’s gotten thicker around his waist. She kisses him, running a thumb over the scruff on his cheeks.

He grins boyishly at her,” and here I thought it was because of my rugged good looks?” She’s nearly the same as the say they got married. Her cooking put meat on his scrappy frame and his eating habits keep her lean. Her hair has a few streaks of grey and she doesn’t wear as much makeup but that kind of stuff has never mattered to him.

She hums thoughtfully and puts her arms around his neck, pulling him into another kiss. Mumbled against his lips she says,” no. It was mostly because you let me open presents on Christmas Eve.”

He hums thoughtfully and pulls her to move towards the tree. This is what she loves about him. His childlike eagerness over the most mundane, silly things. He loves to give gifts and he can’t keep them a secret. “Go open the gloves I got you!”

She rolls her eyes and does as she’s told. Their tree isn’t giant. There aren’t presents strung all over. They have no kids, despite quickly venturing into the age where their time is running out. They have Sunshine though and a cat named Gregory. That’s enough for them.

“You get me gloves every year, Malcolm.”

“Your hands are cold. I worry.”

“You’re the only person that thinks they’re cold.”

“That doesn’t invalidate my feelings.”

She throws the gloves at him, both of them laughing. 

At the end of the day, he knocked her off her feet the week she met him and she’s his knight in shining armor. What better love story could they ask for?


End file.
